The Reluctant Rider
by oca2073
Summary: In a switch of roles Brom stole the red egg and recovered it first from the thief. Brom is defeated by Morzan but survives and is able to escape. Morzan learns of Eragon's birth after Selena's return. After her death he personally kills Eragon's relatives and kidnaps him. Brom retaliates by kidnapping Murtagh. Eragon grows up in the shadow of Galbatorix who spares him.
1. Chapter 1

1812

Dusk over Uru'baen and a faint shroud of smoke hovering over the horizon, the beat of wingtips in a regular rhythm as Eragon rested, flat on his back upon the massive muscled torso- back, feeling that trace of muscles loosening and tightening, lines upon her flesh that he knew so well running down her that was flexing and breathing.

Just below him Saphira hummed and went into a steep dive that drove him from his stupor and he flipped himself nimbly forwards again to ride. _Ten minutes more,_ she whispered close to his ear and he nodded in reply, sparing a glance downwards where row upon row, block upon block he watched the grey mass that was the city, blurred in motion, spill out before his senses. _An hour per day is too short_ , he said in reply and he could feel her nod in silent agreement. _Let us make the most of it then._

Eragon and Saphira were invisible, hidden not only by cloud cover and volumes of dust that was regularly kicked up into the skies by the metropolis' bustling streets, but by a clever spell reworked by their combined efforts that proved enough to persuade the King to let them fly out in the open.

 _I suppose we need to return._ Saphira turned one last time across to make a final sweep, staring wistfully, Eragon thought at the glorious sunset that was about to break. Then, with a sigh the pair returned to the palace compound, a hulking granite structure with glass slits for windows. Eragon surveyed as he always did the twenty four lean towers standing menacingly astride the surrounding cliffs, and Saphira never lingered here for long. Insidious, hidden by magic of course. _The old Castle_. _Illirea it was once called._ Saphira snorted and shook her great scaled crown. _The elves who lived here are long dead. You had best banish those thoughts from your mind before your meeting with the King or we may just live to regret it._

As he entered the plain but imposing throne room with its steepled high-flowing rooftop of quivering hard stone, his footsteps echoing, however much he tried to move quietly. Behind a triple level throne wide enough for four horses to march, lay Shruikan, a magnificent forlorn creature lying pitifully chained to it, twisted and black, fast asleep. Galbatorix, frail, but not through weakness, Eragon knew, had his back turned to him apparently in silent contemlation.

"Approach," came the quiet voice that Eragon knew so well. So capable of limitless variations according to mood and situation. Yet he was accustomed to nearly all, he heard it often enough, more than any man or woman alive, he realized. With his head bent in absolution, his mind was clear, he knelt before the steps.

"And have you heard?" the King questioned with tones of false irony. "Rumours of a new rider abound. From around Carvahall and Daret to Teirm and Dras Leona they speak of a new rider and his red dragon."

"I had not heard your majesty," Eragon replied breathlessly. "I… do not know these things, nothing until you tell me. I am… ignorant of the goings-on of the realm as you know."

"But of course," Galbatorix replied turning so that Eragon caught sight, despite himself, of that sinister figure that belied his true power. Copper skin and sleek black hair in black array, but his eyes had a gleam of red that showed when he wanted something very dear.

"What is it that you desire of me?" Eragon whispered half in dread and half in a strange eager anticipation. Perhaps… finally he was going to… be given the chance…

"You are happy", Galbatorix noted staring downwards and Eragon met his stare. "I wonder why?"

Eragon didn't move for the King's face held a strange hypnotic power. "I am ready your majesty. I am at your command."

And Galbatorix laughed long and hard, it rang from the four high corners. He settled his arms and folded them across his chest. With a neat swish of his cape he was walking sideways, slowly his movement sleek.

"But I am not ready to unleash you still. You will relieve Durza of his duties in Gil'ead. He will be returning to the capital ahead of you. You will be travelling in secret of course. I shall give you two weeks after which I will send Morzan. Do not disappoint me."

"Do not misunderstand your majesty. I only wish to see more of your Kingdom…" Eragon replied earnestly. "I am loyal to your will. And I swear to accomplish all your commands to the utmost of my ability."

But the King waved him off. "Enough flattery for today Eragon. Attend to your lessons. You leave on the 'morrow."

And Eragon getting on his feet turned his back nervously upon Galbatorix and staggered from the throne room, his knees sore for he knew Galbatorix had placed a deliberate spell upon the floor tiles.

As he staggered back into his quarters, somewhat shakily he felt the welcome voice flood into his head again as he passed the wards. A sensation of warmth and he felt able to relax. Just beyond that wall he knew Saphira would have been walking alongside him, much like the Helgrind that he had read, the castle had used various spells to alter space such that even mature dragons could walk along certain corridors though you couldn't see. It was another perk of knowing the true name of the Ancient Language that even space and time was not beyond your manipulation.

At a landing, three guards bowed low, thinking him a Lord. Eragon took the staircase to a tower. When he had reached the peak, sticking her head from above, he greeted Saphira unfolding her wings. Eragon marvelled once again the oscillating length of her enormous tail.

 _A feet longer again and it_ _'_ _s only been a week. From what I remember that_ _'_ _s-_

 _Fifteen years we've lived here. Tomorrow we're gone._

There was an expected pause before she stuck her head down again and Eragon paused at the windowsill to look back up at her.

 _To where?_ she demanded.

 _Gil_ _'_ _ead. It_ _'_ _s perhaps the first step towards some kind of freedom._

Saphira snorted again and looked skeptical.

 _So long as he knows our true names, we will never be free._

 _Maybe so. But for now I like to stop thinking about it all the time. I need to go and practice my swordplay._

 _With him again?_

 _It's going to be hell if Morzan shows up. Otherwise it'll be a dozen of the King's finest._

 _Can you defeat him? You told me you probably could._

 _I'm getting close to his ability I think. But he has decades worth of experience. We've never even seen action before, you and I._

She hummed again and after stretching flew off the tower without another word. Eragon watched her sleek blue form fade away as she ascended another tower to perform another round of gymnastics and flying exercises, eager for tomorrow. He himself, took up his sheathed blade and put on a vest of leather, and picking up a nearby whetstone set about to work.

Ten minutes later he had descended into the gallery, a long hall of mirrors on every side and angle, pock-marked and worn wooden panels that made up the scratched flooring. Morzan, his brows twitching with a mad dislike approached with Za'roc in tow. Eragon drew his blade in caution though he knew Morzan would never truly strike at him with the intent to kill for fear of the King.

 _We must let him think that he can still best us._

 _Aye._

"Well, boy," Morzan spat, "I've been instructed by the King to oversee your _learning_ again. You can thank me afterwards when I've put you to the ground and bruised you up from shins to collarbone. So I've flown all the way here to this shit pile of a city just for you."

"I killed a dragon named Saphira once. Brom's dragon" Morzan continued. He looked as though he wanted something more to say but grimaced instead, a look of deepest loathing passing his darkened face that was beginning to sag with age, and then breathing heavily as if to restrain himself.

 _Morzan the Conqueror of Surda, the Urgal's Bane. Resides in the Spine. Cleared it of Urgals. Galbatorix made a deal with them a few years back. About half the clans agreed to move to Hedarth and sack it, forming their own Urgal nation east of the Hadarac. The other half Morzan exterminated on behalf of Galbatorix. No more Urgals live in the Spine._

 _Yes I know._

 _Be careful._

 _Yes._

With a sudden lunge Morzan lashed out and was met with a parry the force of the blow shook Eragon's arms but he held steady. Driven by rage, Morzan hacked wildly with massive swings that cascaded blows out of every side that Eragon could see and barely keep up. Every crash of metal was painful, Morzan however was clearly not in the best of form. _He hardly ever is nowadays._

 _Don't help me Saphira. I need to see if I can handle him alone. He's not fighting at full strength either._

"Twelve years she has hatched to me." Eragon gritted his teeth as they tested each their strength. "I have learned much from our King since. Is that what you're afraid of?"

Morzan struggled and cursed, breaking free from the lock of blades and drove relentlessly forwards. Eragon matching his every swing but at a critical moment relented and was rewarded by a shattering of ribs that sent him reeling. But a second was all he needed to repair the damage with magic and still grimacing stepped forwards again. Forty exchanges had him lying in the ground a pool of blood gathering about his bowels. Morzan snorted and spat inches away then turned on his heels and left without another word.

 _You let him do that._

 _As I did the time before, and the time before. Every time he has to visit the capital. The sooner Galbatorix realizes I'm capable the sooner he'll have me out there committing atrocities. I won't partake in them if I can help it Saphira. Give me strength._

 _And yet you really wish to see the outside world as I do little one?_

Eragon grimaced and shook his head with a rueful grin. _Of course I do. Anything to leave this place. But still it's better that the King believes I am a weakling. I'm not though._

Saphira was silent at this as Eragon picked himself off the ground and swiftly healed his wounds again. _Meet you in the courtyard._ Saphira hummed and took off. As he left the gallery he made sure to walk with a steady limp in sight of all the courtiers.


	2. Chapter 2

Gil'ead loomed and from what Eragon could see from a mile high in the sky it looked uglier than Uru'baen if that was possible. The city was a circular ring of fortresses and spiked defences, fortifications that marked the city's extent, running three kilometers in circumference he estimated. Meanwhile the keep of the city sat on a slight hill, lurching forward at an almost impossible angle which would not have been safe, Eragon knew, without magic. But this was what made it look all the more formidable against an ordinary army trying to attack it.

 _Have you dozed off?_ Saphira asked and he felt the steady thump of her heartbeat nearly matching the swoop of her wings in the soles of his feet.

 _I woke up about five minutes ago. I_ _'_ _m rather good at telling myself exactly how long to sleep and when to wake up. It_ _'_ _s a useful skill._

Saphira harrumped and looked disdainfully down as they began their descent. _If I could have flown at my regular speed we would have been there in half the time._

 _King_ _'_ _s orders. Any faster and you know the spell would have been betrayed by the movement of air and cloud that even onlookers from the ground could see. And I have no wish to be tortured again._

 _It_ _'_ _s been three months hasn_ _'_ _t it? It still hurts?_

Eragon rubbed his chest and remembered faintly that spell, a new one the King had devised that expanded the pressure of rib cage until you felt ready to explode and choke and in total agony he would end it and you end up spitting blood feeling your innards flow back to their proper places.

 _It was not so agonizing as it was enduring. I couldn_ _'_ _t sleep a sound night for a month afterwards._

 _And it was all because the King thought you were making no progress in your studies._

 _Aye._

 _Well here we are._ Saphira, having spotted a large enough isolated courtyard in the tangle of barracks, stables, smiths, training yardslanded neatly and quietly barely ruffling a spade of foliage. Immediately Eragon reached out with his mind and within minutes he knew where to go. Bidding Saphira to stay hidden for the time being and having cast a few wards that would confuse ordinary soldiers. He took off mentally where he had sensed that heavily shielded mind betraying only subtle hints of a malevolent presence. _So the King has finally recruited a Shade. I_ _'_ _m surprised it took him so long to be honest, I know that his ultimate aim is to have a small army of such creatures. Lieutenants for his soldiers._

Saphira hummed in response but he could tell she was intensely nervous as always. For whatever horror Eragon knew he had endured, he knew that Saphira had had it many times worse. From the time she had hatched, her mind had been forcibly invaded by the King himself and twisted so that her former defiant spirit had been broken and she was a mere shell of her former self. Eragon still remembered, from the time when he was very young, Saphira had been buoyant with enthusiasm and curiosity about the world. Now she was ever wary.

Eragon had managed to sneak past a pair of guards who might have been half drunk anyways and he wasn't surprised that the discipline of this place had grown rather lax with the shade's attention focused solely upon the prisoner. He entered past a set of wooden gates and swiftly cancelled the spell. Garbed in the finest imperial armour and attire and he strode past the training ground he was surprised to see multiple guards and soldiers bow deeply as he passed. Reacting to their gestures awkwardly he walked up to the lieutenant that looked to be in charge of guarding the gates and handed over the scroll with the King's seal. The lieutenant, now more scared and perturbed than ever ushered him in quickly casting deferential glances all the way. Inside the keep which was lavishly decorated with silken tapestries running from wall to wall and fine southern gold-trim carpets trailed along the steps. He continued to search out the shade and so descended into the dungeons.

Inside here, a rancid smell of rotting flesh, various skin eating lotions, insects, and blood lots of blood and charcoal, Eragon could smell and he could pretty much deduce what was going on. He sighed and continued onwards shuffling his footsteps deliberately loudly so that the noises within the room ceased immediately and a moment later the locked metal doors were thrown open.

"Who are you? And why are you here in these quarters, disturbing my work?" The shade's lip curled as a dozen blades surrounded Eragon who made no move to defend himself. "Take him away to the inner dungeons I shall question him later," the Shade said dismissively but with a single word Eragon had set the men to sleep, one by one they fell to the ground utterly spent. One soldier with exceptional fortitude who had managed to swing at him lost his balance as he swerved and fainted dead to the ground. The shade eyed him suspiciously than with interest as Eragon held out the King's scroll.

"I was sent here by the King," Eragon said somewhat uncomfortably. "He expresses impatience at the slow rate of your work and what you've managed to achieve. So he's sent me here in his stead to try some more gentler methods."

"And who are you?" the Shade sneered again. "And what rank do you hold?"

"I don't have a rank, officially I'm not public knowledge so you can count yourself fortunate that you've made my acquaintance," Eragon replied smoothly extending a hand. The Shade took it and Eragon had to muster an effort not to recoil at the cold, deathly, heavy hands. _Like corpses._ "But obviously I'm unofficially more important than Galbatorix than you are as he sent me here only after you failed your task."

"Then how do I know you are as you say?" Sighing Eragon pointed to the scroll in his hand. "If I managed to forge that I would have to be stronger than Galbatorix himself. Now are you going to let me see the prisoner or do I have to travel back to the capital to inform the King of your attitude towards his messenger?"

The shade snarled once more but grudgingly let him pass and quickly left leaving his men still strewn on the floor. Glancing inside the chamber as he walked in brought about a painful deluge of memories. One of his first lessons had been pain and its varieties. The King made sure he knew them well, every form, searing, numbness, sharp, dull, twisted, crushed, fragmented, snapped, jostled, cracking, heaviness, blows, piercings, head, foot, arms, fingers, testicles, teeth, hair, eyes, nose, nails. Blood and bruises. Claws. Fire and ice. He had had him maimed and healed repeatedly twenty times over until he no longer felt anything quite keenly. All pain he had mastered, it did not now affect him as much now. And staring at the elves' beaten, blackened and misshapen body, that did not look very much like a body anymore, he hardly felt a thing. But a pang of remorse was all it took for him to make the decision. For in truth he had long ago planned out what he was going to do once he had heard the prisoner was an elf, and this only further added impetus to his plans.

It took time to steadily heal up the injuries. Some of the injuries Eragon knew had to be healed in proper order, such was the grievous nature that failing to do so would aggravate the rest and the internal workings of the body. He spared no effort, painstaking making sure he had evaluated and checked everything however minor for his plans depended well on this. He had had plenty of practice on himself after all. It would take hours to do properly. And hours more of rest. When he had exhausted himself he called in the guards to lock the doors once again and set about finding himself a place to rest.

It was twelve hours more before she was conscious. Having rested and checked up on Saphira he went back to the elf and set about putting the finishing touches. Having healed the most serious internal injuries first he was now focusing on the more visible but less important swollen scars and bruises that marred her body. As they healed up, he began to feel aroused despite himself but he forced his mind to stay focused on the task. He couldn't help but note the sheer beauty of the elves, which as a race they were entirely incomparable as his learning had informed him. Once done, it was a matter of waiting.

When she finally woke, Eragon thought she was doing it on purpose. He thought she may have been refusing to cooperating, but upon feeling her pulse which was a lot slower than normal and seeing her defective-looking eyes stare into nothingness, he knew that she was in a trance. _But why?_

Starting from the basics he ran down the diagnostic tests once again focusing on the ancient words this time, _Blood flow substance irregular. Ah she needs Tulliver_ _'_ _s nectar._ He cursed himself for not asking the shade earlier but then again the shade wasn't exactly pleasant to talk to.

Returning with the antidote an hour later after a lengthy search among the healers and herbalists of the castle (he had to use magic to force them to give up such a rare and costly substance) She still did not stir but he knew she was pretending this time as her pulse rate sped up, her skin colour regained a sheen of life rather than pure translucence as before.

 _Saphira I_ _'_ _ve finally done it, be on guard. She could attack upon waking now that I_ _'_ _ve restored her pretty much to full health._

 _I hope you know what you_ _'_ _re doing Eragon. Is there any reason our oaths are allowing you to aid our enemy? I thought the fact that the King knew our true names_ _…_

 _I_ _'_ _ve found a way to work around it this time. Watch and see._

When she still did not care to move, Eragon reached out with his mind and alerted her to his presence willing her to trust him. As she opened her eyes finally and he took in her appearance in full, her startlingly emerald eyes, pointed cheek bones, ears, and crisp, shining black hair that was the colour of agate.

Then Eragon surprised her by putting his fingers to his lips.

(greetings)

Startled as if she had forgotten how, she responded hesitantly in kind and looked more puzzled than ever. Wariness gave way to curiosity however and she appeared less guarded

Eragon frowned, this was no ordinary elf that he was dealing with. Deciding to earn her trust further he continued to address her in the ancient language.

" _If you do not know where we are currently, let me inform you this is Gil_ _'_ _ead and we are in the dungeons of its main castle. I know you do not trust me enough to speak and I fully understand why. I have been sent here by Galbatorix as you may have suspected but my methods are not like the Shade_ _'_ _s. Yes I am his servant however._ _"_ As revulsion crossed her face and she seemed struggling to restrain herself from speaking. _"_ _I have healed you of your injuries to the best of my ability and you should be fit to fight and travel or to use magic. So you could try to escape now and use your elven superiority in magic to best me or you could hear me out first and what I have to say._ _"_

She had decided to respond then. " _May you speak your peace then._ _"_

" _I know that the shade_ _'_ _s methods are pointless not to mention cruel, and I know his methods will never succeed in divulging your secrets for the will of elves is stronger than the will of men._ _"_ Eragon paused and drew breath. " _He could spend years torturing you and healing you back just before the brink of death and it would do no good as you will never talk._ _"_ When she had nodded her head ever so slightly, Eragon continued. " _What I propose is a fight then. A contest for the truth. I will swear to fight you and if you win I swear to let you go and not to oppose you as you try to escape. If I win, you must swear that you will tell me all you know about the red egg._ _"_

Many thoughts crossed her face at once as she struggled to grasp his intentions. Then, " _Why are you helping me? You must know you cannot triumph if you were to fight an elf in single combat._ _"_

" _I don_ _'_ _t intend to triumph,_ _"_ Eragon said again with a savage grin, "but I do intend to try. And it is the best way, the only possible way to get information out of you at all. So I am not betraying my master by attempting this."

Thinking quickly, she inclined her head. "I accept your challenge."

"Then swear."

" _Upon my word as an elf I swear that should I lose in this challenge I will divulge all I know-_ _"_

Eragon laughed. "Do you take me for a novice? I know the mechanics of the ancient language. You must tell me who you are or the oath does not have to stand. Elvish trickery. I see your race is not as honest as you make yourselves out to be."

" _Very well. Upon my word as an elf, I Arya Drottning, daughter of Queen Islanzadi-_ _"_ Eragon's jaw dropped but she continued " _do swear to divulge all that I know about the whereabouts of the red egg should I lose this challenge._ _"_

Struggling to muster up a voice to speak. _"_ _And I Eragon, upon my word as a rider I do so swear to set Arya Drottning free from captivity should I lose this challenge._ _"_ His astonishment was nothing compared to her own.

" _You said_ _…_ _but you cannot lie. You spoke in the ancient language._ _"_

Eragon took off the glove from his hand and showed her his silver palm. " _And you are enslaved to Galbatorix?_ _"_ He silently nodded. " _He knows our true names so we cannot do anything to oppose him. This just happens to be the most productive way in getting you to talk, which was what I was ordered to do. But I had feared you would not accept even with the odds favouring you, such is the importance of the information to the Varden and the elves. In which case I would be able to do nothing to help you. But as you accepted it is clear to me that what information you would be able to tell me about the egg would not be very clear or vital at all._ _"_

She nodded seemingly impressed by his logic. Rummaging in his sack, Eragon retrieved Arya's sword, armour and shield which he handed over to her.

" _Are you ready Eragon?_ _"_

" _I am._ _"_

" _Before we begin, I am curious to know how you became a rider and was forced to swear oaths to Galbatorix._ _"_

Eragon's lips tightened a little and he knew that however much he wanted to reply he would not be allowed to.

" _I_ _'_ _m afraid I cannot tell you that or I would be betraying the oaths I swore in the ancient language. I would not have been able to reveal my identity as a rider at all if it wasn_ _'_ _t for this interesting scenario that in doing so, I would be adopting the best method to get you to reveal the information. I trust you_ _'_ _ve healed well enough?_ _"_

And then the elf moved, faster than he could comprehend, than he could have imagined. A frenzy blur and the attacks came in blistering. Luckily he did not need to see to react but felt his own muscles tense, his own arms move in the right ways to ward off the blows spilling towards him in the most efficient manner possible as he could not match an elf in speed or strength. That had been what the King had taught him. He fought in a daze, not thinking or feeling, merely reacting using his instincts. Years and years of training had finally led to this. A match against an elf of obvious skill even amongst her own. He should have known that he couldn't have won.

He lasted twenty minutes. But in the end he felt a crack run up his arms and the next thing he knew his sword had snapped with an almighty crash of ordinary metal upon elven steel. And the next thing he knew the blade was at his throat which was already beginning to bleed away. He held up his arms steadily. He saw the look flash in her eyes as if she was prepared to take his life and immediately cried for help. _Saphira._ And he mentally assaulted her defences throwing her back temporarily that allowed him to retreat out of danger. The elf wasn't done but attacked once again with her mind. So long as he could help her, but it was still a good plan. And that's what he needed to think in order to stay alive, so he focused solely upon it.

 _Who is Saphira? The attacks were relentless. Who is Saphira?_ He could sense her probing but he could also sense a wariness in her undoubtedly that there was a second adversary, potentially dragon nearby. He gave no ground however. With Saphira's help he was her equal match and pushed her out. But suddenly her presence vanished and leaving the elf behind he ran as he knew something had happened. _Someone has found her. But that_ _'_ _s not possible. The spells I placed were hard to overcome. Could it be elves sent to rescue her?_ At the back of his mind he could also sense Arya moving away, to escape but he was not compelled to stop her as he had already sworn an oath overriding his one to Galbatorix in this matter. Sprinting with all his might, he burst into the courtyard where he had left her but she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Around the courtyard Eragon could see an assembly of men gathering in confusion awaiting his orders. Thinking quickly, Eragon bellowed at them to stand down and ran for a horse by the stables. Grasping at the reins, he wheeled it back to the courtyard and took off galloping his heart pounding as he continued to try and find contact. But there was only silence. And then he felt a sliver. But only that.

The gates parted for him as he rode out into the night, where the grasses were long and the wind was whistling past his ears and he felt the torrent of desperation in his heart as he rode blindly towards the source.

A moment later, there was a rustle and the Shade, cloaked in the black of night had darted out of the shadows, and much to his annoyance he cast a quick spell that illuminated his deceptively scrawny figure.

"What have you done to allow my prisoner to escape," Durza hissed, "when the King hears of this I'll be sure to testify before him myself."

Biting back a retort, Eragon and the Shade continued onwards, and Eragon had no means of diverting him without going against the will of Galbatorix. Eventually they reached a forest and he was forced to dismount, the Shade crept along silently behind him as they slipped through the trees and dense foliage until Eragon caught a glint in the still darkness.

Elf eyes, he thought to himself and trod carefully forwards. Durza, whose eyesight was even better had unsheathed his blade. The light was gone, as soon as it came.

Then a flash of green lit up the canopy of the clearing and he ducked, Durza leapt aside. Eragon shouted in the ancient tongue and there was an almighty flash. Having set the surrounding trees aflame with blue that did not scorch the bark, he saw Saphira lay in the dark clearing, barely stirring.

" _She is not harmed_ _"_ _,_ a voice came from the darkness. " _We would not harm her if you come with us to the Varden. Abandon the empire now Eragon._ _"_

Unnerved, with warring instincts inside his heart, Eragon shouted back, " _You fool! Why did you not escape when you had the chance!_ _"_

" _You are too great a threat to be left alone for Galbatorix._ _"_

"Who are you talking to, and what are you speaking," Durza hissed hoarsely from behind. He gripped his weapon with its scar tighter. "I can see them in the dark, where to attack. They surround us now. The one to the front of you is the elf. How did she manage to recover so rapidly?"

" _You know I cannot do what you ask without death,_ _"_ Eragon said desperately. _"_ _Flee now while my other oath still holds or I will not hold back._ _"_

" _You leave us with no choice._ _"_ Eragon heard, three pairs of blades drawn.

With a cry, Eragon threw himself to the left under the cloak of darkness. Durza had leapt forward and was exchanging blows with Arya. In the shadows, he dodged the clumsy thrust of the sword, and with a sweeping foot threw his foe off balance. One hard blow to the head put him down and Eragon wrested from his grasp…

An red elven blade, he thought to himself wondrously. But he had not time to ponder. The next second, a darting foe had leapt down from the trees and he narrowly avoided the swing. With another wild cry in the ancient language he lit up the forest with blue flickering flames and came face to face with Arya, the elf.

Arya's face was inscrutable as she surveyed him. Then she approached steadily as they locked gazes and eyed each other's footing. Then from behind Eragon, he heard an inhuman roar and that gave Arya the opening to attack.

The blade was swift, he thought to himself, and truly an unparalleled experience to wield. Now the elf's blows had no jarring effects on his arm, as the blade was its equal.

Another dragon, he thought quickly to himself as he tried to ward off the attacks that were coming into his vision with blinding speed and he frequently had to dart around tree trunks to avoid the attacks. But how had Durza not seen the dragon? Arya must have cast her spells well.

Arya was determinedly crafting her attacks with the intention of forcing Eragon into the darker spots of the wood where he had not thought to light, and where she would have the advantage in sight. The sound of clashing blades echoed through the dark woods, bouncing off of another pair from a hundred metres away, the roar and fury and slashes of a dragon, and then a small burst of flame. It is a small dragon then, Eragon thought to himself grimly. He had no wish to kill, not the least a dragon, the most majestic of creatures. Eragon's strategy was to hold off Arya and then dash off towards Saphira and see if he could revive her of whatever magic they had used to subdue her.

Eragon broke off and thought of the several words he needed. Instantly, a dozen of trees came crashing down from atop and flames erupted out of the wreckage. Arya leapt deftly through the carnage to stop his escape but was recalled by another moan and a wild cry of triumph.

That gave Eragon the chance as he hurried as fast as he could, cursing his human limitations as he trampled through the uneven and muddy ground. When he at last reached Saphira, he found to his horror that he was unable to identify the magic involved. Cursing, he twisted around searching for another opponent in the night.

The Shade hurtled past him, and Eragon watched in astonishment as he was challenged by two fighters, one old with a long grey beard but moving with a swiftness that belied his age. He had appeared to be wounded, with blood still trickling from his chin, but his wound had been healed. He recognized the second young fighter, who was handsome, vaguely as the one he had knocked down previously and stolen his sword. He too, moved and teamed well with his older partner. The Shade had also had to contend with the dragon, which for some reason or other was still rampaging in the darkness some fifty metres he estimated away.

There was a great snap! Then to Eragon's astonishment, a young red scaled dragon took flight over them, shadowing them all and appeared to gaze directly into Eragon himself. Eragon reached out with his mind, but before he could do so, the red dragon dived rapidly towards the Shade who had again regained an upper hand against his two foes.

Feeling his underlying oath compelling him, Eragon raised his hand to say the words that would bind the dragon but before he could do so, Arya had charged out of the forest blade drawn and her angry eyes flashing. Instantly he was drawn into another mental battle, but this time it was one in which she dominated, giving him no space to counter-attack at all. Drifting into a complete daze in an attempt to defend himself, he lost track of the time and flow of the battle completely as he was consumed in the mental darkness…

After what had felt like an interminable time of excruciating pressure as Eragon mustered every defence he had mastered from Galbatorix to ward off the elf, he felt the pressure slipping and threw himself forward. The Shade was again fighting Arya along with the old bearded fellow. Before he could intervene however, the younger fighter stepped before him drawing a second blade.

Waving his hand and bellowing, Eragon reduced the already injured dragon behind him again to the ground, howling with rage as thick roots sprung from the earth to bind him. Gasping with the effort, it took Eragon all of a precious thirty seconds to dispatch his foe, and having deduced that this fighter was indeed a rider, he felt no need to strike the death blow for Galbatorix who would want him captured unharmed. He stepped past the fallen figure, the next trio were still engaged in combat. Coming forwards, he felt his chest stiffen and quickly threw himself into combat. Arya, breaking off from the Shade, turned towards him attacking fiercely, determined to finish him as quickly as possible…

But behind her, there was again that same cry as before, and Eragon spied amidst the weaving blows and focused combinations of attack, the old fighter from before was lying at the forest floor a pool of blood surrounding his chest. At that crucial moment, the Shade had leapt into the air behind the elf his mad sword swinging, that she was forced to block and that opening was all Eragon needed to drive home his blade into her abdomen, hating himself all the while. Arya staggered a few steps and briefly parried a blow from the Shade before she collapsed, fresh blood wetting the long grasses at their feet. Behind them, the dragon struggled against his binds futilely.

"So that's that," Durza declared. "Not a bad fight either, quite challenging for a change, and yet we triumphed. How are we to transport the beast?" And before Eragon could stop him, Durza thrust his blade quite deliberately against the red dragon's spine, and gutted its back. Harsh sounds of agony filled the air as Eragon shook with revulsion.

"Are you mad, Shade?" Eragon violently pulled Durza back away, "Galbatorix will have your head! This is one of the last of dragons! One of the only three left in the world! Have you gone utterly insane?"

Durza drew his blade and pointed it at him. "I'll not have you dictating my actions, we cannot transport the beast willingly without injuring it first. Galbatorix will understand, it might take some time, but he can heal the beast."

Blood continued to flow freely from the red dragon, its scales were bloody and a complete mess to look at. Eragon turned, resigned mustering up the words that would allow him to heal the worst of the injuries. Before he could begin however, he heard a faint rasp behind. It was the old man, coughing up blood, crawling as well he could with his hands, his weapon left behind. "Eragon," he whispered.

Durza turned as well. "Well what's this? Still alive, old man." With a savage kick to the face he sent him sprawling aside.

Eragon turned back to the shade. "Let me speak to him." He felt something in his heart stirring, pity perhaps for the pathetic old figure on the ground, his last moments alive. He stepped forward, while Durza sneered, and lowered himself to his knees till he was level with the old man.

"Eragon," he whispered softly, "I am Brom. I was the father who bore you. Serena… Serena was your mother's name."

Durza stared in disbelief and then broke off again. "Whilst all this is very touching, no doubt, I have to call the soldiers from the city to retrieve the prisoners."

Brom began again, weaker this time. "The Red egg, I and Jeor stole. Morzan. Had to hide it for Varden to retrieve. I confronted Morzan, but to my greatest shame I was defeated but managed to escape. I assassinated his dragon. Morzan discovered Selena's betrayal, my betrayal and your birth, you are my son. He found you, kidnapped you from your aunt, uncle, cousin. My fault. I kidnapped Murtagh, Morzan's son." He grabbed Eragon closer, wheezing. "You grew up under him, under him and Galbatorix… I am sorry, I failed you. I could not rescue you all these years. And now you have become a rider, I am so proud… so proud… You are still good… I can feel it, Eragon. Still pure. My legacy… is yours from now on. You are free… Eragon, free…" and with that the old man called Brom closed his eyes and died upon the shoulder of a stunned Eragon.

Rising unsteadily, he caught a glance at Durza who was looking equally dumbfounded, staring back and forth between Eragon and Brom, again and again. He sheathed his blade and started to turn away, walking rapidly through the woods.

"Not so fast." Durza turned again, questioningly. Eragon tested himself, checking with his mind, and his heart, and his chest still heaving. Yes, the load was lifted. It was definitely true. It was definitely true. "YES!" he shouted out in triumph to the starless sky above.

"I need to return to the city," Durza said curtly again, "before the prisoners all die from their wounds." Eragon was still heaving in and out, in and out like a madman, his eyes wide as he stared at his palms. "What foulness has gotten into you?"

"Don't leave, Durza. I'm not finished with you yet." Snarling, Durza drew his blade and marched back towards him.

"I thought… I made it perfectly clear… you are in no position to give me orders!" he snarled. "This entire night, this entire debacle was your fault, your doing. You should be glad if Galbatorix lets you keep your head after this!"

Eragon was still in a trance, standing fixed to the spot unmoving. In his heart, he was wrestling, with the course of action. What should he do? What future was in store for him? Could he really escape Galbatorix now? Where would he go? And finally, what would he do with Durza? Did he have the strength?

Coming to a decision, he drew the red blade and probed with his mind. Now that the heat of the battle was finished he could tell the nature of the complex elven spell-work. Yes, he could do this, and do the world a favour, his first act of goodness. He felt a surge of hatred towards the Shade as well, odd as it was, he was not sure why. But he could always make it look like an accident as well.

The Shade was a formidable opponent, and well his match with the blade. His lithe form flitted in and out amongst the trees as they clashed, Durza was snarling with rage at this apparent betrayal, and utterly, Eragon knew confused. All the while, Eragon knew his plan was coming into fruition.

A flaming arrow flew through the trees and he just narrowly avoided it. Seizing the opportunity, Durza's blade whipped out in the darkness that he just ducked under before stepping behind a trunk. "Is that all you have, Durza" he taunted him again and again. The Shade grew more impetuous, lashing out. Another flaming arrow jumped out, this time aimed at the Shade who leapt aside hissing. Eragon quickly cast a ward so that a third arrow was stopped dead in its tracks. Moments later, the young fighter who had apparently recovered and revived came charging out at the woods livid and his face streaked with rage and tears. He lifted his palm so that Eragon saw its silver bright flash in the darkness. The Shade jumped forwards and attacked again and Eragon was forced to dodge even as he halted the spell. Groaning with exasperation, Eragon sent three bone breakers to his legs and heard him howl with agony as he collapsed into a bed of leaves. The Shade grinned madly and slashed again. Eragon dodged, manoeuvring the Shade to follow him.

Eragon raised his palm again and sent a blue ball of energy streaking towards the Shade, although it startled him, Eragon knew that the attack was pointless as Shades were largely immune to magic. However it served to distract Durza and cause him to gloat.

"If that is all that you are capable of, I'm afraid I'll be sending your head back to Galbatorix along with the prisoners!"

Then in the forest clearing, a twig snapped. And there was a low growl.

And then an enormous burst of flame erupted from the behind and a great raging inferno consumed the blackened figure howling with pain as he struggled to turn. Saphira emerged with her great forty foot wings outstretched and a steady thick stream of molten fire pouring forth.

Eragon flew forwards and before the Shade had time to turn again, Saphira's fires went out suddenly with a flash and Eragon plunged in with the red elven sword into the Shade's back, piercing through his heart. The Shade shuddered with a great finality and began to dissolve. A wind picked up amidst the howling of fallen spirits as the Shade knelt, a vanquished figure, his grey form being swept away along with his black cloak, dissipating into a cloud of haze that finally mingled with the fine, crisp night air.

Eragon fell to his knees, his heart still in a great terror at all the revelations and he felt himself completely paralyzed and in a state of complete void. But before he could collapse completely he felt himself swept up warmly into Saphira's embrace and laid his head close to hers breathing harshly.


	4. Chapter 4

_Are you all right Saphira? The spells that bound you-_

 _Nothing to worry about,_ she insisted shakily, _it was a rather discomforting experience_ , and he reached out his hand to touch her scales. _But Eragon you must have realized, it was the only way it could have happened. Our names have changed._

Eragon stood, frozen, his hands outstretched and then he slowly withdrew and pocketed them walking steadily in a circle around her. _I do believe… it seems like the most plausible explanation. But how? True names are not changed for light or transient reasons… When I heard that old man talking and claim that he was my father… He said his name was Brom. Was he talking sense then?_

 _He must have,_ she said insistent. _If that was the moment when you felt liberated…_

 _I could act against Galbatorix, yes. I felt it in the soul. At that very moment… But I did not believe he was speaking the truth. And he told us of the red egg and its origins and… Murtagh! Morzan's son! It must be him, the new rider!_

 _You must heal them,_ Saphira replied hurriedly. _Any delay could place them in mortal danger._

As Eragon rushed back in the direction with Saphira trailing him, he heard a shout and a curse from the woods. "Stay down!" he cried. "I will heal you presently, but first I need to attend to your dragon and the elf!"

"You bastard!" came the reply from the woods. "I will kill you for what you did, to Brom and to Thorn! I'll kill you, just give me a half chance… Come and fight me like a man…"

"It wasn't I who killed him, the Shade did," Eragon called back exasperated but also very relieved inside. "I'm sorry for your loss but to be honest you had, what, three opportunities just now?"

"Curse you!" There was a stumble in the clearing and then he fell again. Eragon sighed and hurried on. Reaching Thorn, the dragon who was barely stirring with bucket loads of blood spilt all around, he drew on Saphira's strength as well as her knowledge of dragon anatomy to do his best. When he had staunched the bleeding and closed the wounds, he did what he could for the mangled nerves for the Shade's sword had been sharp. He knew that Thorn would be unlikely to fly again for perhaps months even with the right herbs and ointments which he lacked. Secretly he also admired the efficacy of the Shade's disabling blow.

Turning to Arya who was still lying nearby moaning feebly and barely conscious he put her to sleep first before working on the wounds. After finishing he felt a wave of nausea and vomited a few steps away. His vision starting to blur from overexertion he felt Saphira's presence and strength rejuvenate him. Mounting her, she then flew low and narrow through the tree edges, skillfully avoiding the heavy branches with her wings only partially extended. When they reached Murtagh, Eragon descended and saw that he was still struggling to heal himself.

"Your dragon will be fine. He will not die," Eragon said shortly, "but he may need several months before he can fly again well."

Murtagh, whom Eragon now saw was handsome and well built, but with a rather long mop of hair and looked vaguely like Morzan which made Eragon shiver noticeably as he caught those same shade of eyes. Murtagh looked questioningly but warily at him, much relieved.

"Who are you," Murtagh demanded. "Why were you fighting us just a moment ago and why have you switched sides? You're a rider too?" He cast a look of sheer astonishment at the much larger Saphira who stood proudly to attention. 

"My name is Eragon." And he had no wish to elaborate more just yet. "Saphira and I were enslaved by Galbatorix since birth but luckily in the pitch of battle, the spells he cast over us seemed to break and we could then act freely."

Murtagh tried to stand but stumbled, Eragon whispered the right words and Murtagh cried out in pain as his joints were forced back into position. A moment later, he could stand completely unhindered and brushed the dirt from himself.

"So you are a servant of Galbatorix?" Murtagh asked but his real attention was on Saphira as he took in her majestic scales, wings all but ignoring Eragon. Saphira snorted haughtily and jerked her head back gesturing towards him.

"Yes, but no longer," came the voice from behind. Eragon spun on his heels and saw Arya walking somewhat stiffly from the residual pain and a part of him wanted to ask just _how_ she had managed to overcome the sleep he had cast when she had ostensibly been asleep.

As if reading his mind, Arya smiled grimly. _You must remember Eragon that we elves do not require sleep in the same amount as humans, so to dose us requires a greater intensity of the spell._ Turning back to Murtagh who was still gawking at her, she said simply: "Brom is dead."

"Is he?" Murtagh cried desperately, his features agonized as he crouched and tore at his hair. "I must…" He ran back towards the clearing and Eragon, Arya, and Saphira followed.

 _He will hate you for a long time._

 _But you trust us?_

 _Aye. Your actions have demonstrated that you are well-meaning and that you acted in the past completely against your will and only for self preservation._

Gratefulness bloomed in his heart at that understanding. When they reached the dead corpse of Brom, they saw Murtagh beside himself with grief. They stood back as he mourned freely but all too soon, Eragon saw his fists ball and with a cry he threw himself forward towards him. Eragon sidestepped the blows as Murtagh threw everything he had at him, his tear-jerked eyes limiting his vision as his cries echoed through the woods.

"Stop this," Eragon said futilely as he continued to dodge and block retreating hurriedly. "You could get us caught…"

"Murtagh, it was not his fault," he could hear Arya say ahead.

"Shut up!" And with a sweeping kick he felled Eragon who barely avoided his incoming fist as he scrambled back onto his feet.

"I had no choice, you must understand…" Eragon said feebly amidst the blows. "I hate the empire as much as you do, probably more, but I was enslaved against my will…"

"Liar! You're a spy!"

 _I, Eragon swear that I will not betray Murtagh, Thorn or Arya Drottning to Galbatorix. "_ There, I swore in the ancient language."

"Did he?" Murtagh demanded marching back to Arya. Upon Arya's grave nod, he sat down and thrashed his arms around in despair muttering he was a father to me repeatedly and breaking out into sobs.

"Will you hear me out then?"

"Speak." came the harsh intone.

"I'm very sorry about Brom," Eragon began deciding it was not best to tell him that Brom had called himself Eragon's father. "All my life Galbatorix has controlled me because he knew my name and Saphira's name. All my life I was raised and trained to be a dragon rider and be unquestionably loyal to him. He broke me many times…" He broke off shakily. "And yet I saw injustice. I saw that I was living a lie, an empty life. I saw first-hand the King's madness in episodes, his insane decrees, his callous disregard for life and his penchant for cruelty."

Murtagh had closed his eyes, sprawled out on the dirt and hugging himself.

"So I ask you to please forgive me for the part I contributed in your companion's death. All my life I tried to work against the King the best I could. I hid my capabilities, I pretended to be weak so I would not have to participate in the atrocities. But this mission, he forced me to take, as he knows you are a rider and where you are."

Murtagh sat up and eyed Eragon at this.

"I have already sworn that I intend to do you and your dragon no harm. _Upon my word as a rider."_ And Eragon drew the red blade and presented it back to Murtagh to take.

"Let us leave here quickly then," Arya said. She eyed Thorn, still unconscious on the grass. "Saphira will have to carry Thorn… and Brom for now." Turning to Eragon she said, _so let us first go away from this evil place._


	5. Chapter 5

They fled across the desert, the three of them with the two dragons, or rather only Saphira being able to fly with a badly wounded Thorn strapped securely to her. Luckily Saphira had grown large enough to handle it, but the added weight was severely restricting her ability to fly and she was forced to stop and rest every two hours or so. But of course she still had no problems whatsoever in staying ahead of the party and scouting the path before them.

They had buried Brom atop a nearby hill that very night and Murtagh had transformed his tomb into marble. Eragon hadn't been sure what to make of Brom's story, though he suspected that it had to be true if it was indeed powerful enough to change his very name and break his former bonds to Galbatorix. Arya had told him just who Brom was and his many achievements and it confirmed everything else in his story.

They made for an odd party, as Murtagh was still as of yet refusing to speak with him, and Arya being stoic like most elves out of their environment as well as being traumatized by the Shade's torture he could tell, acting as the awkward go-between. She had thanked him for killing the Shade in revenge as well as his attempts at "rescue" but Eragon felt deeply awkward in accepting her gratefulness. After all he had been technically working for Galbatorix all along that time. So they never said much between each other either, with Arya imploring that they wait until they reached the Varden for most things.

The Varden was the troubling point for Eragon. Discussing things with Saphira he had grudgingly conceded to the necessity of seeking out this wayward "rebel group" but Eragon felt that it would be merely delaying the inevitable.

He had broached the topic with Arya the other night with Murtagh uncharacteristically breaking his stony silence to rail against his point of view.

"Galbatorix will know that I've defected by now," he said five days into their journey. "I would expect him to fly to Gil'ead himself after hearing about your escape and once he realized Durza could no longer be contacted. He has been trying to scry me for some days but I've barely had the energy to hold him off. Since I was the one given the mission that coincidentally led to your escape and the Shade's disappearance he will put two and two together."

"What forces do you think he will send after us in the Hadarac?"

"Urgals, I should think. They have their own nation now to the East, after sacking Hedarth. They are loyal to Galbatorix as a result and will answer his call. You know better than I that only an Urgal, or better yet an army of Kull could survive a rigorous march across the desert."

"Do you have any information as to how Galbatorix gained the cooperation of the urgals?" Arya asked. It had been the first time she had asked him anything about the empire.

He hesitated, an old habit still left behind. But he had made the conscious decision to leave and go against everything the King stood for.

"Morzan did it. He's still the King's right hand man as I'm sure you know. After Galbatorix forced," he took a deep breath trembling with anger. "Saphira to give birth to a clutch of eggs, he somehow used a dark magic ritual to hatch one of them which he bound to Morzan. Again he is not a true rider, but such a ritual allowed the decline of his abilities to stop."

"He had a similar ritual done to himself and Shruikan. Which is why, well unlike Brom, the King's magical abilities did not decline. Morzan entered the Spine and killed a lot of urgals and eventually forced them to terms. Galbatorix saw the opportunity to gain their loyalty and extend his influence to the East. So he marched them all east and they sacked the small Dwarf and Elf trading posts. Now he has a perfect choke point to prevent any easy communication and travel between the Dwarves and Du Weldenvarden."

Arya was silent at this, considering all the information deeply though Eragon suspected that he was only confirming what she largely suspected. The only new bit had been Saphira's eggs, there were now five eggs in the King's possession including the last one out of the trio that had survived the rider's fall. "You can't beat him you know," Eragon said resolutely, "Galbatorix I mean. He's too powerful. He's had a century to hone his powers, to experiment and further his abilities. I know personally that he is close to finding the Word."

That drew her immediate attention. "Impossible."

"At court, I spent most of the time either in the library or training. I wasn't allowed to leave the Palace most of the time. Galbatorix has an enormous collection of books on every obscure topic, magic, the languages, the Elves and Dwarves. But there was a tiny section of the library that he cordoned off magically with wards. He spent most of the time in that study, searching. I remember when I was younger he would leave frustrated and angry but as time went by his expressions turned more hopeful, hungry, and ambitious."

Murtagh chose this moment to jump into their talk. "How do we know he's really changed sides? From the way he talks he could be a double agent sent by Galbatorix and we'll lead him straight into the Varden bypassing all their defences where he could wreck havoc and destroy us."

Eragon laughed bitterly. "Galbatorix has no need of informants in the Varden he already has two in the highest position." To Arya he said, "I'll tell you who when we arrive, that is if the Varden accept me." Turning to Murtagh again, "As for me betraying the Varden and destroying them from within, I assure you I would be much more useful to Galbatorix on the battlefield than skulking behind the scenes assassinating their leaders. That said, I certainly expect the Varden will force me to swear an oath in the ancient language and search my mind."

So the three of them were now in the midst of the desert waste, its scorching sand was kept off of them by his and Arya's combined efforts to shield them from the wind. During the nights, the ground froze hard with frost and the chill was truly palpable as it descended upon their bones, even as they slept to the warmth of magically conjured secret flames that were devoid of light and so could not be seen from a distance.

On other days, Arya would begin tutoring Murtagh in the ancient language, and Eragon could easily see that Murtagh was being drawn to the beautiful elf. Eragon had offered to tutor Murtagh with swordplay but the brash and proud young rider had turned him down.

He lay down and stared at the star-strewn sky, so bright and full of constellations than he would have dared imagined. Saphira and he had already agreed to throw themselves before the Varden and hope for the best. They really had nowhere else to turn and this course of action gave the best hope for survival. He had contemplated fleeing, as far east as east goes to a place that was uncharted and unmapped but he felt certain that Galbatorix would still find them in the end and force them to serve him again and they would suffer grievous punishment for their act of betrayal. Still he had no idea what the future would hold. He found himself just as lost as when he was staring at the sky wondering what the outcome of his life, his and Saphira's, would ultimately be, and the infinite choices that still lay ahead of them.


End file.
